Portrait of the Speedster As a Young Man
by BiggO
Summary: This intro is based on the Mike Baron-era Wally West. Wally tells his own story, and like Baron I want to keep a "real" element to the story. It's a work in progress.
1. Chapter 1

**Portrait of the Speedster as a Young Man**

Some people call me the fastest man alive. Some women call me "God." Everybody else calls me Wally.

Yeah, that's me, Wally West. Twenty-one years old, single, and a freelance courier on extended leave from undergraduate studies at the University of Missouri. I live at home…with my mom and my little cousin. Some people might not think it's cool to live at home, but what the hell? Free room and board, free meals. Of course, I help with the bills and little things that need to be done around the house. My mom's on my back about going back to school, but I don't think I'm ready to do that just yet...even if I only need twenty-five credits to graduate. I've had enough school for now.

Oh, did I mention that I can run faster than anybody else on the planet? Believe it or not, I've got a top speed of eight hundred miles per hour. It's sort of a by-product of a childhood "accident" and a "gift" from my dear departed uncle. Man, Uncle Barry is the only man I ever looked up to. He was kind of like a big brother AND a dad to me. Rudy's my real father, but he and my mother have been separated since I was in primary school. Rudy is sort of a player according to my mom…among other things, but I guess I never had the "father-son" relationship with him that boys are supposed to have with their fathers.

But anyway, I can run really fast and shit. It definitely helps me out with the courier thing (yeah, I'm a courier)…especially since I don't have a car or anything. Of course, nobody knows about the running except Barry…and Bart, the little cousin I was telling you about.

When it first happened, I could go about 500 miles per hour, and as the years went by and I grew, I just kept getting faster. I try not to use my speed too much mainly because when I use it, I get really, _really_ hungry, and sometimes I have to crash. No shit, one time I ran out to California to visit some friends on spring break, and after I got there, I slept about 24 hours. I woke up in a hospital because my friends thought I'd gone into a coma. The doctors wanted to keep me in the hospital for my entire break, but I had to get out of there. I don't want people all in my business

But yeah, when I use my speed I get really hungry. The longer I use it and the faster I go, the hungrier I get and the more time I need to rest. While I was at Mizzou, I figured out that my metabolism was a lot higher than everyone else's. I mean when I do things normally, my metabolism is normal, but sometimes…well, it's crazy.

Like the other night, I had to get a package over to Keystone City and back for a client in forty-five minutes. You know I put away three large meat lover's pizzas right after that? It's funny that I never remember seeing Barry eat like that; he was always so normal. If it _was_ a problem for him, he never said anything about it.

Another thing about the speed is that I usually don't go as fast as I can…at least not while I'm in the city. I did that exactly _once_, and when I broke the sound barrier, people thought a bomb had gone off. It's a different story when I'm outside of town in the country. I mean, this _is_ the Midwest, and there are military bases in the middle of nowhere; so when people hear me booming, they just think it's another military test.

So that's me, and that's who I am. When you get down to it, I'm just a slacker at heart. I even have a slacker's job. I do regular old couriering stuff, but every once in a while, I'll get a call to help transport, say, an organ for someone who needs a transplant. I've helped save a few lives that way.

Barry saved a _lot_ of lives. He was a cop, and so a lot of times it was part of his job. No, he wasn't a member of S.W.A.T or a shoot-'em-up or a negotiator or anything like that; he was more like one of those C.S.I. types. Still, though, he saved a lot of lives on and beyond his job. The guy criss-crossed the world about a million times, and he saw and did things most people—myself included--can only imagine…and he died a hero.

Me? I'm not a hero. One day, maybe, but not now. I'm twenty-one years old, and I'm just trying to take it easy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Portrait: Chapter 2**

Summers in Central City are weird. Long dry spells, but sometimes we can't seem to be able to get out from under rainstorms and tornadoes and stuff. Well, that's the Midwest, I guess. It's hot as hell, now, though.

I was supposed to take my little cousin Bart to the zoo today. He's four years old, and he's kind of like a little brother to me. I mean my mother took him in when he was about a year old. He's the only person besides Barry who knows about my little secret, but I'm not really worried about him telling anyone about it. Bart's my little buddy, and after nineteen or so years of being an only child, it was cool to have someone else in the house. Besides, he really gets a kick out of the piggy back rides. One thing's for sure: _no one _gives piggy back rides like me.

You know, I'm not really sure where Bart came from. Iris and Barry adopted him when he was a baby, and after they died, Bart came to live with us. He's kind of weird sometimes. Not weird in a bad way, but, I don't know…sometimes it seems like he's kind of advanced for his age, and other times he seems like he's just a regular old little kid. It's hard to explain.

But like I was saying, though, I was supposed to be taking my little buddy to the zoo, but I got this phone call from the dispatcher at the courier service asking about transporting a heart over to El Paso in the next few hours. I hated to break my date with Bart, but I like to keep a little cash in my pockets. I make really good money doing what I do. I'm kind of like the company's "miscellaneous" courier: the jobs that no one else wants to do, I do. And jobs like transporting hearts cost our clients a lot less money than, say, chartering a helicopter. Besides, for me El Paso is a hop, skip, and a jump, only about a thousand miles away. The courier service doesn't know about my "special abilities"; they just know that I get the job done when no one else can. They don't ask, and I don't tell.

Bart was kind of sad when I told him we couldn't go to the zoo, but I told him I would make it up to him as soon as I came back. He lit up after that, but I still felt kind of bad. I hate to disappoint him. I mean if there's anyone that knows what it's like to be let down by someone you're supposed to look up to, it's me. Rudy always used to leave me hanging when I was little. I definitely don't want to do that to Bart. I try to do right by him. Hey, you never know; the kid might have to save my life one day.

I told my mom I had a job and that I'd be out of town for a day or so. She told me to be careful like she always does. She's only in her mid-forties, but she's got this serious old-maid, mother-hen thing going on. She'll never admit it, but Mom was pretty damn lonely that first year when I took off for school. I mean I'd been around her almost everyday of my life since the day I was born, and I guess it was hard on her when I left. She used to call me at school almost every night. It's a good thing that she got Bart in the summer between my freshman and sophomore years. She needed the company, and even though she's always complaining about me not being in school, I know she likes having me around.

I had a couple of stops to make after I left home. The first one was over at my boy Chet's house. Chet Runk. Chet's the same age as me, but he's some sort of science whiz kid. We actually went to high school together, but when all the normal kids like me were finishing up the tenth grade, he was on his way to Mizzou to study physics and engineering.

I used to see him around in high school, but I didn't hang out with him. He was kind of a geek and a loner. He weighs well over 350 lbs. It's a glandular thing from what he told me. Anyway, when I finally made it to Mizzou, Chet was just getting into grad school there. It was weird because as many people as there are in Central City, I didn't see that many kids from here up at Mizzou. Chet was the only familiar face that I saw, so I started hanging out with him. He could identify with the "Central City experience", and he helped me get around school, what teachers to avoid, and stuff like that. It's kind of crazy when I think about: I had to go almost 200 miles from home to make friends with a guy I went to high school with.

Did I mention that Chet's family is rich? They live in a really nice part of town. I heard his father is some kind of scientist with connections to M.I.T. and some kind of top secret laboratory or something like that. Anyway, I ran over to Chet's house—he's always there when he's not at school—and rang the doorbell. When he opened the door, he was like, "Man, how come I never see or hear a car pull up when you come by?" I just laughed and told him I had my ways.

As smart as Chet is, he's really just a big kid. He spends a lot of time playing video games. He's been telling me I'm an idiot because I bought a Playstation 3 instead of the XBOX 360. Hey, different strokes for different folks. Besides I've been playing _Metal Gear _games since I was a kid, and those games always come out for Playstation first. Anyway, I just stopped by to shoot the breeze for a minute. I told him I had a couriering gig out of town. He looked at me and said, "Man, I still haven't figured how the hell someone that doesn't have a car, a bike, or a little red wagon can be worth a damn as a courier." I just said the same thing again, that I had my ways.

My last stop was at the Central City Medical Center to pick up the heart. When I got there, they sent me to that special part of the hospital where they keep those special parts. They gave me this insulated backpack that had some kind of container inside. It was cold to the touch. They told me that somebody's life was in my hands. I told them they didn't have anything to worry about because I'd done this before.


	3. Chapter 3

I try to stay away from the Interstates when I'm not running locally. What was it that guy said? Something about Interstates letting you travel all the way around the country without actually seeing any of it? Besides, I think I'd draw too much attention if I made a sonic boom near an Interstate. I like to run along the backroads and country roads. I had to run through Kansas, and _everything_ in Kansas is a backroad. I don't know. I don't think I'm a "country boy" or anything, but there's something about the peace and quiet in the country. And some of the best places to eat are in those little towns. When I'm running, I've always gotta think about my next meal.

Speaking of food, I hadn't eaten anything since I got up. I knew I was gonna be starving by the time I got to El Paso. I had to take my time and keep my speed down around 450 miles an hour. Sometimes when I go really fast without eating first, I cramp up.

Anyway, I was looking around for food when everything got crazy. I was cutting through that little part of Oklahoma that's just in between Kansas and Texas when it happened. I had just run past a tractor-trailer.

Two men. One of them was a big, tall guy with a full head of dark hair and a dark beard wearing dark clothing. There was this smaller guy pinned down on the ground, and the big guy was just punching him with everything he had. I was already 20 miles down the road when I realized what I saw. I had to turn around and go back. I like to mind my own business, but I'm not going let someone just beat the shit out of another person when I know I can do something to stop it.

I ran at the big guy, not at full speed, though, because I figured that would probably kill him. As I got closer, I could see that this wasn't a normal guy. I knew he was big, but this dude was freakin' _huge_, like Hulk-Hogan-in-his-prime huge. I plowed into him with a shoulder tackle that would've sent a normal-sized _cow_ flying, but against _this _guy, all I did was knock him off balance. If he was mad before, I must've _really_ pissed him off.

He charged at me with a growl. I've never seen a look like the one this guy had on his face. I mean "angry" just doesn't do it justice. I knew that if he got his hands on me, I'd be a dead man. Well, obviously he didn't know who or what he was dealing with because I stepped to the side and out of his reach, and I was behind him in the blink of an eye. I tried to wrap my arms around his waist to try and tackle him to the ground. I couldn't do it. It was like trying to wrap my arms around a tree trunk. He pivoted to his left and threw me off like I was nothing. It sent me rolling in the gravel alongside the road. It took a few seconds for me to get my bearings.

He turned away from me and back toward the guy on the ground. The big guy picked up a huge rock in one hand, the kind of rock that I would have to pick up with _two_ hands. He stood over the man on the ground and held the rock high above his head.

I could see that the only thing that could stop this guy was a Mack truck, and I remembered the tractor-trailer that I had passed on my way to this spot. That trailer was only a few hundred feet away and coming toward us. I knew what I had to do. I got up on my hands and knees. There was now way I was gonna let a murder happen right in front of me.

I charged at the big guy with everything I had. I put my shoulder in his back again and tried to wrap my arms around his waist and I _pushed_ as hard as I could. I felt him moving and lifting off the ground. He was a load. I forced him onto the highway and toward the oncoming truck. I could hear the truck getting closer. I released him right in front of the truck and closed my eyes. The impact made one hell of a noise. It was a sound that I can't describe. I thought I was gonna throw up.

I heard the truck brake to a stop. When I opened my eyes and looked around, I saw that the front of the truck was dented. I'd expected to see a dead man's body splattered all over it, but there was _nothing_! The driver, an older guy who must've been in his fifties and looked every bit like your stereotypical "Bubba", climbed out of his cab to look at the damage.

"What the _hell _did I just hit?" he asked he incredulously. He looked around the around for something, maybe a dead animal. Then he looked at me. "Are you all right, kid?"

I was breathing pretty hard and my heart pounding. "I'm fine, but I think we need to get that guy over there to a hospital or something," I said pointing at the smaller man on the ground behind me.

The truck driver and I went and knelt over him. The guy was in pretty bad shape, bleeding out of his nose, mouth and ears. I tore open his short and saw that his torso was caved in on one side, crushed ribs. His breathing was shallow and labored. That big guy had beaten the shit out of him.

The truck driver was in total shock. "Jesus! What the hell happened to this guy?" Then he looked at me. "Did you do this?"

"Are you kiddin'? Do I look like I could do this? There was another guy here when I got here, a really _big _guy!"

"Son," the truck driver began, "I been on the road all day, an' I ain't seen no other cars, trucks, or nothin' else in the last half-hour, but you're tellin' me you just got here. An' I ain't seen nobody else out here but you and this guy. I don't see no 'other guy.'"

"Look, I didn't do this," I said. "Instead of you trying to accuse me of trying to kill this guy, you should be calling for help. Do you have a cell phone?

"Bubba" looked at me suspiciously for a moment. "Yeah, I got one back in my truck."

"Well, what are you waiting on, man?"

He turned and headed back to his truck. I took off. God, I was starving! I hadn't eaten anything that morning, but after all the activity in the past few minutes, I was literally running on fumes. My head was spinning. What had I just seen? What had just happened?

***

I made my delivery. No sooner had I filled out all of that administrative paperwork, I was in the hospital's cafeteria buying three sacks of full of burgers, sandwiches and whatever else I could find. I wasn't about to let these people see me eat in public, so I went back to the private room in the doctor's quarters that my company had requested on my behalf. Actually, I ate most of the food before I even made it to the room.

I needed to crash. After I put out a do-not-disturb sign on the outside of my door, I closed it and locked it. It was about four o'clock in the afternoon.

When I woke up, it was about nine the next morning. Normally, I don't sleep that long when I've only done a small job like the one I did the day before, but since I made the mistake of not eating the previous morning along with the "activity" in Oklahoma, well, let's just say that it all caught up with me.

I turned on the television in the room, to try and find out what kind of weather I'd be dealing with on my run back to Central City. Since they had cable, I started flipping channels, looking for the Weather Channel. While I was looking for that station, I stumbled across CNN Headline News, which I rarely if ever watch. I don't know why I even stopped to watch then.

Leading off the top of the nine o'clock hour, the anchorwoman ran through a list of the national headlines. I don't remember much about the first three or four stories, but the last one grabbed my attention. It was something about a CIA agent being brutally assaulted in Oklahoma and being hospitalized in a coma. There were no suspects, but there was a witnes, a truck driver. The truck driver had said that there had been a young man on the scene, too, a clean-shaven kid about nineteen years old, six feet tall with red hair, about 160 lbs.

Take a _wild guess_ who that truck driver was describing.


	4. Chapter 4

It was still hot and muggy on my way back to Central City. I had to be on my way not too soon after that news broadcast. I stopped in the hospital cafeteria to grab something to eat because I wasn't about to have a repeat of what happened the day before. If I ran into any drama, I was gonna be prepared. I ate a couple of sausage-and-egg biscuits, and I bought a few bags of chips and protein bars to put in my backpack.

As luck would have it, there were TV monitors all over the cafeteria, all tuned to CNN Headline News. A blurb about the CIA agent in Kansas came up again along with the description of a six-foot tall, red-headed kid. I swear that I felt every eye in that place turned and looked at me.

A security guard looked at me with a smirk on his face. "You ain't happen to be up in Kansas yesterday did you?"

I almost pissed on myself right then and there, but I tried to play it off. "Yeah, man, that's me. Fast as lightning. All the way from Kansas to El Paso in the blink of an eye."

The guard let out one of those half-laughs. "Smart ass."

Man, I got the hell out of there as fast I could. It was bad enough that I happened to see whatever it was that went on in Kansas, but finding out that one of the guys was with the CIA? Somehow, I knew my life was about to get more complicated.

*****

When I got back into Central City, I wasn't sure what to do or where to go. I mean, have you ever had one of those times when you could feel that something bad was gonna happen, but didn't know what it was or where it would come from? That's how I was feeling right about then. I didn't know if I should go home and try to chill out or if I should go hang out at Chet's or what. I wanted to tell someone what I'd seen, but at the same time, I didn't want to get involved in any_more _craziness.

Well, I ended up going back to the house. It was early in the afternoon when I walked in the door. Bart had been in the back part of the house, probably playing with toys, but I guess he heard me come in the door because he came running into the living room after I closed the front door.

"Aunt Mary, Wally's back!" he exclaimed. He came up and hugged me around the knees. I love it when he does that.

I bent over and scooped him up over my head. "What's up, buddy?!?"

He giggled for a minute, and then I sat down in the easy chair and held him on my lap. God, I was tired…and a bit hungry.

"Are we gonna go to the zoo now?" Bart asked. I hadn't forgotten about our date, but I knew that I wasn't really in the shape to take him to the zoo, especially since I had just gotten back from El Paso.

"Aw, I'm sorry, buddy," I began, "Wally's real tired right now, but I promise you that we're gonna to the zoo as soon as I feel good again." I could see the spark in his eyes turn into disappointment.

"You don't feel good, Wally?" he asked me. He always gets worried when he thinks I'm not feeling good.

"No, buddy, not so good right now," I answered.

Well, I didn't lie to him. I felt like hell. I just needed some food and a chance to think. To salvage the situation, though, I came up with a quick compromise.

"Hey, buddy, have you had lunch?" I asked him.

Bart perked up a bit. "Well, I had lunch, but I guess I'm still kinda hungry."

"Good! Wanna go to McDonald's?" I asked.

"Yeah!" he exclaimed.

Just then my mother came in. "Wally, I can't believe you just came in and didn't even say a word to me."

"Sorry, Ma," I said. "I _just_ came in the door, and Bart came in, and we've been hangin' out for a few seconds. Now we're goin' to McDonald's."

"Wally, Bart just had lunch not even an hour ago," Mom scolded me. "He needs to take his nap."

That was my cue to be on my way. I stood up and kissed my mother on the cheek. "It's all-good, Ma. He'll be fine, _and _he'll go to sleep…as soon as we get back."

I grabbed Bart by the hand and headed back out the door. After I closed the door, I scooped him up and sat him on my shoulders.

"Hang on, buddy," I told him. Then I turned my head so I could see his face a little bit. "You ready?"

"Yeah!" he exclaimed.

"All right. Here we go!"

…and with that we were off to McDonald's. I think we got there in about sixty seconds.

I've got a bit of a reputation at our local McDonald's. Just about everyone that works there calls me "the human garbage disposal." It only takes a four-pack of McNuggets for Bart, but for me, I've gotta have six Big Macs and at least four large orders of fries, and a couple of large shakes to wash all that down with. When I'm in public I eat at normal speed, but most people can't believe that I eat as much as I do.

You should've heard this one girl at the counter there: "Every time he comes in here, he orders enough food for a football team, and he don't get no bigger. He must be bulimic."

Nope, I'm not bulimic, but I _do _have a high metabolism.

After we ate, Bart and I walked back home at normal speed. I made the mistake of giving him one of my piggy-back rides after a meal once before, and I ended up with barf in my hair. I'll never make that mistake again.

While we walked back home, I could tell Bart was starting to get tired. Just before we made it back to our street, I scooped him up and carried him. By the time I made it into the front door, he was out like a light.

"See?" my mother said. "_That's _why I asked you not take him out after his lunch."

"It's okay, Ma," I replied. "I don't mind carrying him around. This is my little buddy."

I took Bart to his room..

"And _please_ take his shoes off, Wally," I heard my mother saying after me.

"Right, Ma," I answered. I took off his shoes and laid him on his bed. Then I went to my own room, shut the door, and lay on my bed.

I had to process everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours or so. I'd seen a man get beaten nearly to death by another man. I pushed that other man in front of an eighteen-wheeler, but there was not trace of him afterward even the rig looked like it was _totaled_! Then it turns out that the _first_ man was with the CIA. And on top of that, the guy driving the eighteen-wheeler gave a description of a suspect that sounded a lot like _me. _Well, I was able to lie on the bed for all of about five minutes before I had to get up. I had way too much nervous energy to just lie there. I had to get up and go somewhere, anywhere. I headed for the front door.

"I'm headin' out, Ma," I said to my mother, who was in the living room reading a book.

"But you just came back, Wally," she protested looking up from her book.

"Yeah, I know, Ma, but you know me: no rest for the weary."

And with that I was on my way out the door. Where was I going? I had no idea. I needed someone to talk to. I blurred down the street, not at super-speed but fast enough so that most people wouldn't notice me and would only think it was a breeze. Before I knew it, I found myself heading for the Interstate. I hadn't planned on going there, but whenever I'm on the Interstate, nine times out of ten, I'm heading to Keystone City. I do a lot of couriering business over there, but it's also the stomping grounds of the only living man that I really trust: my Uncle Jay.


	5. Chapter 5

Well, to be clear, "Uncle Jay" isn't really my uncle, but he's the closest thing I ever had to an uncle after Barry. I actually met him when I was a kid. He was a cop just like Barry except that Uncle Jay worked in Keystone City and Barry was in Central City. I guess that's how they got acquainted because I've known Uncle Jay almost as long as I knew Barry. Uncle Jay was a good bit older than Barry, though. I guess he's probably deep into his fifties now, and his temples are gray. I know he's not far from retiring from the force.

I criss-crossed Keystone City until I reached Uncle Jay's house. I zoomed up to the door. I took a second to catch my breath, and then I knocked.

After a moment, the door opened. "Hey! To what do I owe this pleasure?" Uncle Jay greeted me.

"Oh, I was just kinda passin' through," I began, "and I thought I'd stop by and check on my favorite Keystone City couple."

"Well, come on in," Uncle Jay replied, motioning for me to come in and have a seat in the living room. As I entered, he turned and yelled into the house: "Hey, Joan, we got a visitor."

Uncle Jay's wife came into the living room just as I was parking on the sofa. I stood back up so I could give her the hug that I knew she was gonna want.

"Well, how are you _doing_, sweetheart?" Aunt Joan asked as she hugged me and then kissed me on the cheek. "We just finished supper. Are you hungry/"

"Always," I answered with a smile. I could always count on Aunt Joan for a nice well-rounded meal. She cooks and cooks and cooks all the time even though it's just her and Uncle Jay in their home. For whatever reason, they never had any kids, but I know that they always seemed to love having me around. They also know that I don't believe in letting good food go to waste.

After I polished off a couple of plates of food, Uncle Jay and I headed into the den while Aunt Joan cleaned up in the kitchen.

"So what's on your mind, son?" asked Uncle Jay.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Your eyes," he said. "You look worried about something."

"Ah, nothin'," I said. "Just stuff."

"'Stuff', huh?" Uncle Jay asked. "Are we talkin' girl-stuff, at-home stuff, going-back-to-school-stuff or what?"

"Oh, you, _too_?" I asked.

"Yeah, your Mom asked me to say something to you about it the next time I saw you," said Uncle Jay, "and we all know that I'm a man of my word."

"Well, I'm not really ready to go back just yet," I said. "I mean, I _am _going back eventually, but right about now, school's the _last _thing on my mind."

"Well, I'm all ears like always," Uncle Jay replied

"Ah, it's nothin' really. Nothin' in particular but everything in general, I guess."

And that was how it went. I changed the subject. We shot the breeze. I really wanted to tell him about what I'd seen in Oklahoma, but how could I? How could I bring something like _that_ up: _Oh, by the way, Uncle Jay, that secret agent that got his head bashed in Oklahoma, I was there when it happened. _Yeah, right!

At one point, it got kind of quiet. I didn't know what to say. I'm sure Uncle Jay could tell something was up.

"Been thinkin' about your Uncle Barry?" he asked me.

"Yeah," I answered. "Every day."

"Yeah, me too," returned Uncle Jay. "Barry was a good cop, a good _man._ They don't come any better. He made everyone lucky enough to know him want to be a better person. He was an amazing guy."

"Oh, man, don't I know it," I replied. "He and Aunt Iris have been gone for four years, and I _still_ can't believe it. Barry was like a father to me."

"Well, I'll be the first to tell you that Barry touched a _lot_ of lives," said Uncle Jay, "but I can say that his family—Iris, you, and Bart—was his pride and joy. He talked about you all the time, Wally, about how he knew that you were destined for greatness."

"I guess he'd be pretty disappointed with me right about now, huh?" I asked.

"Aw, come on, now, son," answered Uncle Jay. "You're still wet behind the ears. You haven't gotten started yet."

"But I don't think I'll ever be the next Barry Allen."

"You don't _have_ to be the next Barry Allen," Uncle Jay began. "Be the first _Wally West_."

In the middle of all this talk, Uncle Jay's cell phone went off.

"Chief Garrick," he answered. His face got pretty serious, apprehensive as he listened. He glanced my way for a moment. I wondered if the person on the other end of the phone said something about me and the incident in Oklahoma. "We already have units on the way over to assist? All right, I'm on my way." He hung up the phone and got to his feet.

"What's up?" I asked.

"Trouble, _big_ trouble!" Uncle Jay answered. "There's some _major _craziness happening over at S.T.A.R. Labs in Central City! I've got to _roll out_, Wally! Joan, I'm headed for C.C.!"

Before I knew it, Uncle Jay had grabbed his badge and jacket and was on his way out the door.

Right about then, Aunt Joan came into the den. She was looking really worried, wringing her hands. "My goodness! I get so worried when he takes off like he does. He should be getting ready to enjoy his retirement, but he still runs around like a madman."

I did my best to console her. "He's gonna be okay, Aunt Joan. He always is." I gave her a hug and a kiss on the forehead. "I need to get back over there to make sure my mom and Bart are okay. It must be a _really _big deal if the folks in Central City are calling over here for backup. And thanks for dinner."

As I stepped out the front door, I noticed something a bit weird: there was no sign of Uncle Jay, but his car was still parked in the driveway.


	6. Chapter 6

S.T.A.R. Labs. I'd heard of that place. The one most people know about is in Metropolis, but there are satellite centers around the country. We have one on the outskirts of Central City. Chet's father has done a lot of work out there. I don't know very much about what they do, but according to Chet, a lot of it is classified, top-secret stuff. I'd even heard his father say something about the place making the _X-Files_ look like _Sesame Street._

I made my way through Keystone City and back to the Interstate. It was early evening, and it had finally begun to cool down, but obviously there was more drama. If police officers from Keystone City were heading over to Central City, something _really _big was going down. Before I knew it, I was headed to S.T.A.R. Labs myself.

The S.T.A.R. complex is actually on the outskirts of town, the opposite side from Keystone City, but you could see the chaos from miles away. There was huge cloud of black smoke hanging in the air. Once I got closer I could see that there was a huge fire burning out of control at the main building. _Oh, man!_ It stopped me dead in my tracks. It looked someone had dropped a bomb on the place. There were fire trucks, police cars, rescue workers, people running around screaming and crying. I'd never seen anything like it ever before! Honestly, I was really sorry I'd gone there.

I felt someone grab my shoulder from behind. "What the hell are you doing here?"

I turned around and saw it was Uncle Jay, and he was _pissed. _I couldn't even say anything. It was the first time he'd ever come at me like that before.

"I said, '_What are you DOING here?'"_

"I was just…I was…I," was about all I could say.

Uncle Jay took a deep breath, shook his head, and sighed "Damn." He looked over at the burning building, and then looked back at me. "We've gotta move, and we're gonna put this fire out."

The look on my face must've been screaming "_WTF?"_ because he said, "Just do what I tell you to do, and this'll be easy. Follow me."

The next thing I knew, Uncle Jay was sprinting at hyper-speed-like _ME-_-around to the backside of the building. Once we arrived at the back of the building, without stopping, Uncle Jay said, "All right, get as close to the building as you can without touching it."

I did what he said. Flames were leaping out of the building, and I could feel the heat, but it wasn't as bad as I expected it to be. The flames were moving in slow motion, though. I'd never seen anything like that before.

"Okay," Jay continued, "keep your speed up. Don't worry about the flames. As long as we're running, the flames can't hurt us. Keep going in a circle around the building."

This place was I-don't-know-how-many thousands of square feet around, but we kept running around in a circle, and I saw that the flames were starting to die down.

"That's it, son!" said Uncle Jay. "We're creating a vacuum and smothering flames! We're just about done!"

When the flames were out, Uncle Jay said, "All right, now we gotta make sure everyone is outta here! You take the first floor, and I'll take the rest!"

Man, I never thought I'd see the day I'd run _inside _a burning building, but I did. Well by that time, the fire was out, but there was smoke everywhere. I'd never been in this building before, but I did my best to scour it as much as I could, and I hoped to God that I didn't I miss anyone. It seemed like I was running around forever even though I knew it was only a few seconds.

All of a sudden Uncle Jay was back, and he had someone draped over his shoulder. "Let's go, son!" he yelled.

We ran out of the building and into a wooded area just behind the building. Uncle Jay laid the body of a guy out on the ground. He was bald guy, unconscious, covered in smoke.

"Is he alive?" I asked.

"Yeah," began Uncle Jay, "he's alive…and I think he's our firebug, too. Hang on a second."

He removed a walkie-talkie from his security belt and held it up to his ear. "Hey, Frye, this is Garrick! I think I have your perp!"

* * *

I managed to work my back way into the crowd of civilians standing behind police lines and barricades. I watched EMTs load the guy from the building into an ambulance, and then I watched Uncle Jay doing "police stuff." I saw him talking to another old-timer, a guy I recognized: Darryl Frye. The guy was Barry's boss down at Central City Police headquarters when I was a kid. I remember talking to him a few times when Barry used to bring me down to the lab.

By this time, there were quite a few TV news vans on the scene, and apparently Uncle Jay and I weren't the only ones who came down from Keystone City. KFMB-TV was there, too, and that meant that their star reporter was there: Linda Park…reporting "live from the scene." Keystone City residents voted her their favorite local news personality. On TV she comes across like this oh-so-caring and sensitive reporter. She's not like that in _real _life. I've couriered things to her before, and she's a straight-up _beyotch!_ I mean she talked to me like I was some sort of animal, and don't even get me started on how she talks to the people that work for her. I couldn't _imagine_ what it would be like to have to be around that chick day in and day out for hours at a time. God, I feel sorry for the poor bastard that ends up marrying her.

Still, though, I was trying to wrap my mind around what I'd just seen Uncle Jay do. My life was getting really weird. Just a short while ago, I'd witnessed an attempted murder; I'd pushed a giant in front of a tractor-trailer, and then that giant disappeared without a trace; and now…_this._ What the hell was going on?

As if in answer to my question, Uncle Jay appeared beside me. "I think we need to have a chat, son."

"Yeah," I agreed. "I think so, too."

"Where to?"

"Somewhere where I can get something to eat," I answered.

* * *

"You've known _all this time_?" I asked Uncle Jay as I chowed down on my third box of carry-out linguine with marinara sauce from my favorite Central City Italian cafe. We were back at my house. Mom and Bart were gone.

"Yep," he said matter-of-factly. He wasn't eating; just having a cup of coffee.

"Then you knew about Barry, too," I continued.

"Yep."

I didn't know what to think. All these years, I thought only Barry and Bart knew about what I could do, and I thought we were the only ones like that. Now, I was finding out I was wrong.

"Well, how did you get your…?"

"I was there when Barry got _his _powers," Uncle Jay interrupted quietly. I must've looked really dazed and confused.

"Well, let me back up a bit," he resumed. "Your uncle hadn't been on the job for more than eighteen months or so. I think I'd talked to him a few times on the phone concerning a case or two that had crossed jurisdictions. He seemed like a nice young man. I was in town that day to meet with the Central City chief of police. I figured since I was here, I'd stop by the police lab and meet Barry in person.

"As I was getting ready to go into the lab, one of the younger officers stopped me to say hello. I turned and spoke to him, and I was pushing the door to the lab open. Just as I turned back around and got the door open enough to walk inside, I saw a flash of light and heard a _boom_! The next thing I remember was coming to on the floor of the lab, fumes in the air, and smashed glass everywhere. I don't have any idea how long I was out."

"Where was Barry?" I asked.

"Well, from what he told me, he was out saving your Aunt Iris," Uncle Jay laughed. "You know, I had to wait a few more days before I actually met him? He came up to visit me at my home while I was recovering."

"Is that when you both figured out that you both had super-speed?" I inquired.

"Well, in Barry's case, he got his powers all of a sudden," Uncle Jay responded. "I felt normal at first, but by the time he came to visit me, I'd noticed some 'changes'."

"Were you as fast as Barry?"

"Oh, no!" Uncle Jay exclaimed. "Not in a million years! We kind of figured out that there were a couple of things that accounted for the difference. First, I was a lot older than Barry. He wasn't much older than you at the time, a young man in the prime of his life. And secondly, he took a _direct hit_ from the lightning and those chemicals. What I got was residual."

"Well, what about me?" I wondered.

Uncle Jay sighed. "Barry called me the day it happened. He couldn't believe it had happened _again_, _another_ bolt of lightning, and the _exact same_ chemicals. What were the odds?"

"You've known since the very beginning?" I asked again. "How come you never said anything to me about it?"

"That was something that Barry and I agreed to," began Uncle Jay. "He would look out for you, and I would keep an eye on you from a distance. If anything happened to him, then I would step in when the time was right, and it looks like that time is now."

Neither one of us said anything for a few moments

"Well, how come _I'm_ not as fast as Barry?"

"That's a good question," Uncle Jay answered. "Barry wondered about that up to the day he died. He figured it had something to do with the fact that you were only eleven years old when it happened, that you would grow into your powers."

"Well, I'm an adult now," I began, "so what's up?"

"I don't know, Wally," answered Jay. "All I can say is that each one of us is different."

"Tell me about it!" I exclaimed as I slurped down the last of my linguine. "I mean, I never saw you or him eat the way I do. You don't get sick after you use your powers. Why am I so different?"

"I wish I had an answer for you Wally, but I don't," he answered. Then he added, "But _you_ can tell _me _how long you've been playing superhero."

"Oh, I've never done anything like what we did tonight," I said. "I just have my couriering gig."

"I see," said Uncle Jay. "Anything happen in the last few days?"

"Anything like what?" _My God! Did he know about what went on with that agent?_

"Anything that you might want to share with a close friend who can relate to you in more ways than one?"

"What makes you think anything has happened?"

Uncle Jay leaned in close. "Well, for starters I've known you since you were a little kid. I know you well enough to know when something's up with you. _And _I'm a _cop_ who's been on the job for over thirty years."

I kinda felt like he had me by the balls, so started with, "Well, you know that agent that got beat up down in Texas?"

Uncle Jay's eyes got really big, and he sat back in his seat. "Aw, come on, Wally!" he exclaimed in disbelief. "I was hoping you were gonna tell me about a _girl_ or something! You should've told me _earlier_! We've gotta roll!"

And just like that, we were off and running again.


End file.
